


Hands All Over

by fierybeams



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fierybeams/pseuds/fierybeams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is devastated over news of Adam Levine’s marriage. Kurt is quick to remind him he has a tattooed fiancé of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands All Over

Kurt steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his neck and his silk bathrobe caressing his shower-damp, perfumed skin. He finds Blaine splayed out across their shared mattress, naked but for a pair of tight green briefs, balancing his laptop on his belly. Kurt smiles, warmth rising in his chest, and wonders if this is a sight that will ever stop feeling new, novel, impossible: he has a fiancé he can shamelessly ogle whenever he wants without fear or the quiet agony of anticipated rejection. Just a couple of years out of high school and all  _this_ , Blaine’s biceps, his chest, ass, cock, and loving smiles are  _his_. Kurt’s eyes scan his fleshy, tawny form appreciatively before he fixates on the crinkle of his brow and feels his heart drop.

“Blaine? Is everything okay?” Blaine looks uncharacteristically put-out, eyes drooping and mouth slanted downward. The pronounced dim in his usual full-body glow has Kurt feeling suddenly, radically off-center, somehow unclean even despite the mingled smells of water and oatmeal soap still sitting in his nostrils.

Blaine’s face snaps up, eyes wide. The despair sitting on his features just a moment ago has altered into something that almost looks like embarrassment. Kurt stares expectantly. 

“Oh,” Blaine says, stalling, and he’s getting  _that look_  on his face again, the nervous faux-smiley one that Kurt has found usually means trouble. Kurt's tensing. “It’s nothing! Come here.” He snaps his laptop shut and places it beside him, stretching his legs enticingly. Kurt is unmoved.

“No, there’s something. What is it, Blaine?” He crosses his arms and juts a hip out, just in case the sternness in his voice hasn’t yet indicated to Blaine that he’s not avoiding  _this_  one. Whatever it is. 

“You’re going to be mad,” Blaine exhales, looking down with a sigh and what looks dangerously like a rolling of his eyes.

“Then let’s get it over with,” Kurt feels all-consuming dread, but he isn’t sure they’ll survive another avoidance of communication. His eyes sting, just slightly, and he tilts his face upward in indignation to compensate.

“It’s stupid,” Blaine assures him, arms curling into himself. He’s eyeing Kurt hopefully now, as if waiting for Kurt to make a snappy response that’ll defer his confession. It doesn’t come, and he opens his mouth, defeatedly.

“People.com is reporting that Adam Levine got married today,” Blaine says finally, voice soft and devastated. He cringes slightly, and Kurt isn’t sure if it’s in response to hearing the news uttered aloud or in anticipation of the fury he’s seemingly expecting Kurt to reply with.

Kurt just laughs, dropping his arms and sagging in relief. 

“Blaine, oh my god,” is all he manages to get out between relieved, disbelieving spurts of laughter.

“What?” Blaine is staring self-consciously, defensiveness seeping into his voice and posture.

“No, I’m not-- I’m not laughing  _at_  you,” Kurt reassures him, clutching his stomach and willing himself to compose his reaction. “I mean, I am, but only because I was expecting something different. Worse.” 

“Oh,” Blaine’s smiling again, genuine this time, leaning back comfortably. “I know. It’s stupid.”

“Aw, Blaine, no it’s not,” Kurt moves over to him finally, sitting down onto the mattress before rolling seductively onto his side, bathrobe dropping open. Blaine’s eyes drop immediately to his crotch. Kurt grins.

Kurt places a lingeringly coy fingertip on Blaine’s collarbone, ghosting it downward, just past the hardened bead of his nipple. 

“You know,” Kurt whispers, leaning in, feeling coquettish in the adrenaline-spiked high of his relief. “You have a tattoo’d fiancé of your own.” 

Blaine lips part open, green-speckled eyes dilating. “I do,” he confirms, breathless.

“I bet there are things Adam Levine wouldn’t let you do to him,” Kurt drapes a long leg over Blaine suggestively. 

“You don’t know that,” Blaine says, a little sharply. Kurt glares warningly. This is hardly the time to debate Adam Levine's sexual preferences. “Okay. You’re right,” Blaine concedes, lips pouting in restrained amusement.

Kurt raises himself up, straddling Blaine entirely now, back straight and robe barely clinging to him. He places his hands down onto Blaine's chest, rolling his hips. Blaine moans, already stiffening beneath him. 

“Would fucking me help you take your mind off Mr. Levine?” Kurt rolls his hips back again, biting his lip and shrugging the robe off entirely. 

Blaine tugs onto the ends of the towel still hanging around his neck, pulling him closer. “Yes,” he breathes, grinding up, half-hard cock pressing against the fleshy muscle of Kurt’s thigh.

Kurt’s hand moves down to his own cock, stroking and pulling until it stirs to alertness, nipples hardening and back arching. 

“Then do it,” Kurt whispers, voice high and breathy. He guides Blaine’s hands onto his hips, throwing the towel onto the floor behind him. It can be washed later.

“Can I--” Blaine looks bashful for a moment, hesitating. Kurt raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to speak. “Can you...be on your stomach, maybe? I’d like to look at, um, your tattoo.” 

Kurt considers this. Riding has long been his preferred position, but, well. A man is married and his fiancé is devastated. And what was the point of even  _getting_  that tattoo if Blaine can’t enjoy it properly, anyway?

Hopping off, carefully graceful, Kurt moves onto his knees and elbows, mattress sagging slightly under the four new pressure points. “Does this work?” 

“Oh, oh yes.” Kurt looks to his side and sees Blaine’s back to him, tugging the briefs off. He admires the muscles of his back and the curve of his ass, achingly aware of his dick again. Blaine turns around, cock flushed maroon and bobbing with the motion, and Kurt has to resume stroking at his own, pleasure diminishing his capacity for self-control.

Blaine lines up behind him, gingerly balancing their bottle of lube on the small of Kurt’s back. Kurt feels the bodily warmth of  Blaine leaning over him before his tongue is lapping wetly at the text on his shoulder blade. Tingles shiver up Kurt’s spine, thighs parting a little further as he gasps.

“No teasing today, Blaine,” Kurt moans, hips pushing back. “Take me like you’d take Adam Levine. Or like you’d like him to take you. Hard, please,  _fuck_.” 

Kurt is shockingly turned on, pulsations drumming through his cock and asshole. He isn’t sure if it’s the new position or the fear and subsequent relief of Blaine’s confession. Maybe it’s the reminder of marriage at all, because they’ll be there too, soon, dozens of NYADA boys sure to experience the same heartbreak Blaine’s feeling now when the two of them are officially off the market. Kurt gives himself a squeeze again, eyes watering and limbs tingling.

Blaine’s smearing lube around his hand, pulling Kurt’s cheeks apart and sloppily rubbing his slick knuckles against the sensitive inner crack, rubbing deliberately hard at the small hole that spasms, as always, at his rough touch.

Kurt’s about to demand more when Blaine shoves two fingers in, his usual gentleness forgotten. Kurt squeals, bearing down and opening out to ease Blaine’s entry, delighting in the subtle burn of the two digits. He loves this, lives for it, the fill and ache, nerves sparking in what has always felt like his most forbidden of bodily crevasses. He clenches around Blaine’s fingers, sucking him in further, shifting the angle of his back to get Blaine closer to his prostate, sweat dripping down his neck and nose as Blaine’s fingers start fucking in and out, the scorch moving up and down Kurt’s insides until fuck-- yes--  _there_  it is, jabs of pressure where he needs them most, body jerking and skin warming with each added hit.

He’s grunting, rhythmically matching the tempo of Blaine’s plunges, noises getting higher and pitchier as the fiery wave builds and builds, muscles tensing.

Blaine pulls his fingers out with a sick wet sound, and Kurt can hear the squelch of Blaine lubing himself up before the sound of the bottle hitting the floor with a quiet  _thump_  has Kurt expectantly pushing back again. Blaine spreads him open again with thickly coated hands, Kurt’s face going hot as he  _feels_  the intensity of the stare aimed at his dilating hole, clenching hungrily of its own volition. It’s embarrassing, like his body is begging for it without Kurt’s permission, but Blaine’s breathing has grown more labored like he  _loves_  it and so Kurt lets him look, heartbeat pounding in his neck.

Kurt’s taken to grunting Blaine’s name pleadingly when he finally gets the rounded pressure right at his rim, the head of Blaine’s thick cock popping in with a loud inhaling moan behind him and an edgeless pain that sparks up right to his dick and nipples. 

“More, come on, like I’m Adam, do it,” Kurt is only momentarily struck by the ridiculousness of that grunted statement before Blaine is pushing the rest of the way in, quicker than he’s used to, the stretch unbearable in just the way Kurt needed it to be. He squeals; drives back.  _Yes, yes, yes._

Blaine starts  _pounding_ , the slap of his hips against Kurt’s bouncing cheeks near-bruising, and, fuck, there it is again, weight right against that firm tender lump inside him. Kurt contracts with each inhale, delighting at the sounds of Blaine’s wrecked groans contrasting with the delicacy of his quiet mewls, ass and muscles sore as Blaine sends flares of brain-melting ecstasy rocketing through him with each strategic push. 

He’s getting closer, so stiff and stuffed, skin sensitive and receptive all over, even the follicles of his hair feeling tender with each rough crash as it shoots in again again again, relentless inside him, pressure building like a backed-up hose. Blaine shifts the angle of his entry just a fraction, hits Kurt differently,  _better_ , thighs trembling and elbows going numb as he loses consciousness of anything beyond the gorging of his ass and the fire-flicker of every nerve ending in his body. He moves a trembling hand to his dick, already wet at the tip, closing a fist around it and pulling pulling pulling as Blaine tears inside, the pressurized pleasure at his prostate almost painful in its intensity when a final, vicious thrust propels him over the edge, asshole clamping around the appendage still thrusting away inside as he comes all over his hand and the bedsheets beneath him, screaming and sagging forward with a pained gasp.

Kurt breathes hard, grounds himself more steadily against the mattress as he begins gently rocking back against Blaine, squeezing hard around him, feeling his sweat dripping down onto his back and listening closely as his moans get more desperate, his thrusts faster and shallower, until he’s shouting Kurt’s name -- _at least it wasn’t Adam_ , Kurt thinks wryly --  and coming inside him, gripping onto the sweat-slippery inward swell of Kurt’s waist to keep himself upright.

Kurt lets himself fall, wincing only slightly at the pool of cum beneath his hip as the heavy weight of Blaine’s body presses him deeper into it. He’s drenched in sweat and sticky semen, still breathing erratically. He gently shifts out from beneath Blaine, rolling onto his side and eyeing him where he’s now laying flat on the mattress, back rising with desperate inhales and the mounds of his ass quivering slightly where his leg muscles are spasming. 

“Well,” Kurt says finally, throaty and rushed. “Are we still sad about Adam Levine?”

Blaine laughs into the mattress, and pushes himself up, settling too onto his side so he can stare up at Kurt. 

“No,” he breathes, mouth and face red, “I can’t say ‘sadness’ is the dominant feeling coursing through me right now, no.”

“Good,” Kurt smiles, leaning in to kiss him, tongue trailing against a chapped lower lip. “We’ll be married soon, too, you know,” Kurt says, and he can feel his face light up.

“I know,” Blaine beams, properly sunny again, and Kurt feels everything in his world shift back into its proper place. “I think that was part of. I just wish we were there already. But it’s fine. We’re close.”

Kurt moves a comforting hand to Blaine’s ass, dropping his head onto a pillow, exhausted. 

“You know,” Blaine says, breaking the silence after it lasts a few moments. “I can’t wait until Taylor Lautner gets married and  _I_  have to be the one to comfort  _you_.” 

Kurt barks out a laugh. “Oh, please, Taylor Lautner married. That boy’s probably getting pounded as we speak.”

“Kurt!” Blaine gasps, scandalized, and tackles him gently down onto his back with a disbelieving squeak. “You’re awful,” he says once he’s settled comfortably atop him, eyes bright.

“You love it,” Kurt smirks. 

“I love  _you_ ,” Blaine amends, and drops a heated kiss to Kurt’s sweet neck. 


End file.
